Six Crime Stories Volume One

Who Unkilled Johnny Murder?-5

When we got to the casino, I looked up Inside Charlie, a buddy of mine who works security there. Truth is, I owe him a lot more favors than he owes me, but he always comes through because we go way back.

When I asked to take a look at some video off the security cameras, Charlie told me he’d have to break five different rules to do that...but he did it anyway. Only problem was, Starbulk talked his way into coming with us, laying it on about how Q. Liz had hired him to track down Murder, and it being her dying wish and all, he felt obliged to participate in all aspects of the investigation. He played up the story about being my long-lost half-brother, too, even though I pointed out it was total horseshit. In the end, Charlie being Charlie, and Starbulk being with me (whether I liked it or not), Daffodil/Antifreeze got an invite, too.

Back in the monitor room, Charlie found the tape from the high-stakes poker room between noon and two P.M., which was about when Madame Destine had said she’d spotted Johnny. Charlie ran the tape on fast forward, and we all stared at the screen, watching the dealers flip out one hand after another and the huddled figures around the dozen or so tables slide out bets.

There was no sign of our guy from noon to one o’clock...but Starbulk made Charlie pause the tape around one-fifteen. Jabbing a finger at the screen, Starbulk pointed out a wiry figure at the furthest table back, a slouched-over character wearing a ballcap and sunglasses.

At first, I didn’t see the resemblance...but Charlie zoomed in on the guy and I got a better look. Take away the cap and shades, I decided, and sure enough, it could be Johnny.

Which led me to a question. “How the hell’d you spot him?” I asked Starbulk. “Charlie and I both knew him personally, so how the hell’d you pick him out first?”

“Research,” said Starbulk, patting my shoulder. “I studied his photo. I studied his file on the flight down here.”

“What file?” I said, shrugging off his hand. “The police file? F.B.I.?”

“My file,” said Starbulk with a wink. “Knowledge is power.”

I stared at him, wondering for the first time if there was more to this nut than he was letting on. Wondering if he was somehow connected to this Johnny situation in more ways than getting hired by poor Q. Liz...if she’d ever hired him in the first place.

“All right then,” I said, turning to Charlie. “You got time to follow this up, mon ami? Maybe see what else our boy there been up to on his visit this afternoon?”

“Sure,” said Charlie, stroking his salt-and-pepper mustache. “I’ll see what I can find. How ‘bout I give you a call?”

“You got my number,” I said, patting the cell phone under my aloha shirt. At that very instant, the phone rang, and I fished it out of its harness on my belt. The number on the little green display screen was my buddy Just Dexter’s, so I answered the call.

“Yo, Dex,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Get your ass to Charity Hospital, pronto.” Dexter always has the jitters (though his gimmick is posing as a human statue) but this time he sounded extra-jumpy. “Father Sees-All took a beatin’. Says Johnny Murder did it.”

“Aw, s**t,” I said, and then I bolted out of Harrah’s as fast as I could get my two-hundred-ninety-nine-and-a-half pounds to go. Starbulk, naturally, stayed glued to my side like a barnacle I couldn’t scrape off.